Red Belt, the Tuscarora — page 59: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a 4 GLANCE OF RECOGNITION. 61 ‘instant Mis-kwa, who had been arranging the skins, looked up; her eyes fell upon the pale-face, Just then Roydon Howe obtained a look at the girl’s face. Their eyes met. The prisoner started violently, as did the maiden ; but in an instant, as a bright look passed between them, the girl placed her finger quick to her lips, and turned her head away. She Tooked not toward him again. As quick, however, as had been the involuntary starting of the two—as quick as had been the intelligent glance between them, neither had escaped the keen eye of Oo-lum-lah, the Wild Hawk, who sat in the circle opposite the dais. A dark frown gathered on the warrior's brow, and a venomous fire shot from his red eyes. But no‘other traces of emotion were visible in him, and these passed partly away as the savage glanced again at the manly form of the prisoner. A moment of silence passed, in which the stolid warriors bent their gaze sternly upon the prisoner. It was evident that Roydon Howe's manner had made a pleasing impres- sion—oue in his favor—in the grim circle. There was only one face in that swarthy company which showed no emotion whatever; that was Man-e-wa-wa's, lt is true the old man had glanced at the prisoner quickly and searchingly, as he was led in by the guard. That glance was fleeting, but it was close and scrutinizing. And as the old chief quietly looked away, and although he saw, as he did so, the basilisk eyes of Wild Hawk fastened on him, yet a smile passed over his face. At length the old chief on the dais, whose scarred face, and ruilk-white scalp-lock betokened -that he had passed through many hard-fought fights, and had seen many changes of the moon and falls of snow, looked up and glanced at the pri- soner. In that look there was nothing of kindness—nothing of soft-heartedness. But there was determination, cruel, vin- dictive, unmistakable. Then he glanced around the grim cir- 13°" and waving his hand arose slowly to his feet. His speech was that ever-powerful appeal to the Indian passions—a recital of Indians’ wrongs; and after stating the ease of the prisoner’s complicity in aggravating those wrongs, the old chief sat down, leaving to his braves to determine the white man’s fate. Comiclhooks.con